Anyway, I'm wrong. It's only 1 p.m. I've just won an extra hour on a Saturday.
You fools, I think of my fellow Duluthians, pulling a copy of Amelia Grey's "Threats" off the new release shelf at the library. Sometimes I'm stunned by the books that are available, ignored by the public. To my way of thinking, this library should be a picked-over mess empty of everything but Mary Higgins Clark titles and biographies of former presidents. But somehow gems escape the public eye.
First I consider myself a book connoisseur.
Then I realize it's more like I'm a connoisseur of my own interests.
I check out five new releases that my reading peers didn't know enough to know about. Suckers.
Goodwill is an amazing concept. Fill four grocery bags with clothes that no longer interest me, though one piece has sentimental value. A short-short denim skirt worn on an early date with Chuck. He put his hand on my leg while I was driving and said, joking: "My God! You're a whore!"
Drop bags into a bin outside of Goodwill. Now I have four bags less of stuff. I could get into this. I wonder if they take shitty books. I should deconstruct the tower of former hobbies in the basement storage area.
I've work myself up into a fever of longing for an everything bagel with jalapeno cheddar cream cheese from Big Apple Bagels. On my way over the bridge to Superior I see that the lane back to Duluth is filled with abandoned construction vehicles and a porta-potty. The barrier between the bridge and a terrifying plunge off the side and into Lake Superior is gone. My legs go weak imagining the feeling of tires dangling over the edge and the inner negotiation with balance. Taking into consideration wind speed and the weight of things stashed in the trunk.
Thankfully that lane is closed so I won't have to face that threat.
Unfortunately, so is Big Apple Bagels.
Bixby's Bagels, nowhere near any place I'm going, makes a poor substitute on this day. Instead of toasting my bagel, they seemingly just dehydrated it.
Book reading, kitchen cleaning, review writing.
Chuck and I eat a quick dinner at India Palace. This place always reminds me of my first years in Duluth. In my late 20s, early 30s, I would take myself on a date here. Sit at a two-top table with a book, order Matar Paneer, Garlic Nan, Chai Tea and maybe finish it off with a Mango Lassi or some dessert. This is where I decided "Boys? Pfft. It's super fun to hang out with myself."
I haven't been here in years, but my favorite meal is still so fantastic.
"Cabin in the Woods" at Zinema 2, "Game of Thrones" marathon at home. Desperate search for my favorite ring, which has gone missing in a house where the cats sometimes play soccer with small shiny objects. I search everywhere and feel sick.
I think this ring might be one possession I really hate losing. It's so weird the way, when you lose something, you can actually imagine yourself putting it in certain places.
"Ah, yes. I set it on the window sill in the bathroom."
"Hm. I distinctly recall slipping it into the front pocket of my jeans."
"Oh, yes. I dropped it into my makeup bag."
Although none of those things really happened.